This Way Comes
by xXIchaIchaParadiseXx
Summary: Matthew just wanted to read and study in a place with an interesting atmosphere. Gilbert just wanted to know what kind of kid sits and reads in a strip club. Lars just wanted the Mafia to leave his club alone. Eventual Pru/Can
1. The Perfume

Warning: This will eventually be slash, but it will take a while, this is mostly a friendship fic. By the time it will be slash, everyone will be legal. There is some cursing ahead so beware.

Disclaimer: I own the plot and that is all.

-This Way Comes-

Gilbert sneered at the obnoxious sign proclaiming the name of the stripper club. It was bright, colourful, tacky and all-around headache inducing. He was already annoyed at the fact he had to come here in the first place and this definitely not helping. He hated this type of place, but it was the only location where he could find Lars who rarely left the building. He closed his eyes, inhaled a slow deep breath and walked in.

Immediately he was blinded by the neon lights. He rubbed his eyes, which had always been sensitive and were hurting like hell before starting to search around for his acquaintance. The sooner he found the man, the sooner he could leave. He spotted him sitting at a table at the back of the restaurant, surveying the room and making sure no one was harassing his employees. That was one of the few things Gilbert respected the man for. He was a dick and had an annoying superior attitude, but he was decent to his workers. He understood that while some people enjoyed pole-dancing and stripping, they didn't necessarily enjoy being groped by fat, disgusting, leering men.

He walked quickly and purposely towards Lars, enjoying the widening of his eyes as he spotted the quickly approaching figure. Realizing there was nowhere to go to escape the him, the dutch chose to glare at him and demand icily,

"What do you want?"

"No 'hello, nice to see you, how are you?' I'm hurt." Gilbert answered, starting to enjoy himself.

"You never come to my club unless it's to bring bad news."

Ouch. Well, it was true, he admitted himself. The reminder of just what news he was bringing this time destroyed any parcel of good mood he had felt at annoying the other man. Gilbert's expression sobered as he stated the reason for his visit.

"Braginsky's back in town."

He watched as Lars' face decomposed, reading the shock, worry and fear in his eyes before his expression smoothed over and became blank, as his mind regained control of itself.

"Thanks for the warning." Lars' tone was hollow as he covered his face with his hands. His body slumped, expressing nothing but extreme fatigue. Gilbert looked around the room, giving the other some time to himself to consider all the implications and try to find any possible solutions.

He noticed that while the lights in the front of the room were glaring, the ones in the back were darker, creating an illusion of privacy. He wondered why they bothered for a moment, until he noticed all the hungry looks the clients were casting at the girl as they panted. He had a feeling it was so the workers wouldn't have to notice the looks, or the people jerking off. He turned his head away in disgust and his face came across a surprising sight.

At a table close to the one were he was sitting, was a boy who was reading a book rather intently and paying absolutely no intention to dancing the girl in front. A profound searching glance left him with the certitude that the kid was definitely not legal. He turned back towards his companion to question him about the kid.

"Who is he?" Gilbert demanded, sending a vague nod in the boy's direction.

"Who's who?" The club owner answered peering around with alarm trying to spot anyone suspicious who could be in league with the Russian psychopath.

"The blond kid who's clearly not legal." Lars' face relaxed and took on a fond look. He glanced at the boy who's brow was furrowed in concentration.

"Oh, Matthew. He's a friend. He helped me once when I was in a pinch. He comes here to study and read. He says he enjoys the atmosphere, though he's never seemed interested in the girls. He occasionally helps out at the bar on Saturday nights."

"You haven't answered my question whether he's legal or not." Pressed Gilbert noticing the others avoidance of the subject.

"You didn't phrase it like a question, but you're right, he's underage. Shut up about it already."

Clearly Lars liked the kid if he was allowing him to stay, even though his presence could land the other man in trouble. What kind of person came to strip club to do homework and read anyways? He glanced at the title of the kid's book. _Le Parfum, _obviously a french book but he had a feeling that-another glance this time at the author confirmed it. The boy was reading The Perfume, from Patrick Suskind. He himself had read it in German about a year ago. He had to admit that he was intrigued. He stood up, ignoring Lars' protests and strode quickly to the blond's table.

"Enjoying the book?" He asked the kid.

"This concerns you, how?" The blond-_Matthew _he remembered Lars calling him, asked in return in a dry tone. He sent a surprised smile back. The subdued appearance of the boy had lead him to believe he wouldn't have much of a spine.

"Pure curiosity, after all, it's not everyday you see a kid reading a book about a murderer in 18th century France."

"It's more than a story about a murderer in 18th century France. It's an incredibly well written piece of literature, described mostly through smell, with a unique plot. Perhaps it's a little unconventional, but at least there is no incest like in Hamlet-" Gilbert lifted his hands up in a way to stop the rant which had started off calmly but was getting more and more spirited as he went on. He was incredibly defensive, and his speech had an 'I have said this before, and many times, can't you just listen for once?' tone to it that made him suspect he wasn't the first to question the boy's taste in literature.

"Whoa there, calm down little bird. No need to get on your high horses." Despite the glare aimed at him, he smiled happily, if a bit dangerously. He had been rather bored lately and this could be a chance for entertainment.

"What do you like about the plot?" He asked, trying to appease the boy.

"I love how he survives against all the odds. I mean, he should have died from the beginning, you know? On the day he was born, then at the orphanage, when he gets sick all those times, in the cave. All along the book, all these situations happen where he should die but he manages to survive. Yes he's a murderer, but he only kills them to make himself a smell, you know? His goal was to make a perfume that would make people love him. In the end, he succeeds, because when he gets eaten by the cannibals, at the end, they did it out of love. It's also really well written, I mean to describe a book with almost nothing but smell, it's genius you know?" His expression was earnest and his face flush with excitement.

Whoa. That was definitely one messed up kid. But he found himself grinning at the others enthusiasm. As soon as the kid noticed his smile he closed up and started to glare again. He hunched over, trying to hide in his red sweatshirt.

"Stop judging me, it's annoying." Matthew mumbled.

"I'm not judging you little bird. I happen to enjoy the book myself, though it's more for his badassness than because of the way it's written. I'm Gilbert." He offered his hand to the kid who shook it while staring at him suspiciously.

"Don't call me little bird. My name is Matthew." His expression was still a little sullen but he had straightened up and was staring at the older man curiously.

"Not anymore, I have just re-baptized you little bird." He poked his fingers in a nearby bear glass, the owner too enraptured by the stripper on stage to notice. He then proceeded to flick the drops on the kid's head. The other just lifted an eyebrow giving him a 'Really? Was that really necessary?' look as the liquid rolled down to his chin then fell to the floor.

"There, now it's official." He smirked at the boy, who sighed, shook his head then shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever."

"So," he started, deciding to approach the subject he was truly interested in hearing, "why are you sitting here, in a stripper bar, reading a book? Shouldn't you be home, I don't know sleeping or something? It's probably past your bedtime you know." He decided to add in the others speech habit at the end.

Immediately, the kid's face darkened again for a few seconds before lightening. The kid rolled his eyes, before making his statement.

"It's quieter here, and I like the atmosphere." He looked at his watch, his eyebrows rising until they were hidden by his hair and his eyes wide. His expression read a guilty mixture of 'Oh shit' and 'Well aren't I screwed'.

"You seem to be right about it being past my bedtime, unfortunately." He continued with a sardonic smile. He grabbed his book, covered his head with his hood, waved goodbye to Gilbert, then snuck out the back door.

The whole process took about two seconds. The kid was there, then he was gone. He stood in shock for a while at the abruptness of the departure before a slow, dangerous smile grew on his face. That had been fairly interesting. Also, the boy had never truly answered his question, giving him the same bullshit that Lars had sprouted. He was curious about the whole situation.

He decided to head back to Lars, planning on asking him a few questions. If the club owner answered them himself, he wouldn't have to come back to the stripper club to meet the kid again. He tried to avoid the club as much as possible and while he had liked the kid, he didn't want to have to come back to assuage his curiosity.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Lars had bolted during his talk with the blond. He scowled at the empty table for a few moments, as if it were the reason for all his problems before he turned on his heel and walked out of the club.

The lights were giving him a headache. He rubbed his temples for a few seconds, relaxing in the cool air as the darkness soothed his eyes like a balm. He closed them, leaning back against the brick wall. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps. The air which just a second ago had been a cool blessing was now all out cold and he was freezing. He exhaled, watching the cloud of steam coming out of his mouth and floating around, this way and that. He straightened, then walked home to his ickle baby brother. Who would punch him if he ever heard Gilbert calling him that.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew ran home as quickly as he could, his breath short and quick as his feet pounded on the sidewalk. There was no one else around so he didn't have to push past people, apologizing the whole time. Small mercy. He glanced at his watch while under a streetlight and bit back a curse. He would arrive on time, that's it continue to think positively, he would arrive on time...

The minute he arrived in front of the house, he heard the fairly loud argument between Alfred and Arthur. Hopefully this would buy him a few seconds. He climbed up the tree conveniently placed next to his conveniently opened window. He managed to climb in just as pounding footsteps indicating someone was coming up to the second floor.

He turned on his light, kicked off his shoes and opened his book just in time to hear the door open.

"See, Mattie isn't even home yet so-" he stopped dead when he saw Matthew sitting on his bed calmly reading a book. "Oh. Hi Mattie." Alfred smiled sheepishly at the boy who could easily have been his twin.

"What were you saying you twat? Matthew is right here, reading his book. You have no right to accuse him of being late. I have been by the door for the past half hour and he hasn't come in, so obviously he arrived early. You, on the other hand, are late and as such grounded. No outings and no video-games this weekend." Arthur finished his speech then crossed his arms over his chest. He gave the room a glare, daring anything or anyone in it to defy him, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Alfred turned around preparing himself to apologize for the accusation when he saw the open window. He froze, a suspicion coming to life in the back of his mind. The cat who got the cream smile on Matthew's face confirmed it.

"Why you little shit. You just got home didn't you?" Matthew smile turned into in all out smirk.

"Yep." He separated the word into two syllables, popping the p to rub in it his almost twin's face.

"How is it that you never get caught or even suspected?" Alfred demanded, pouting for all his worth.

"Three things. I'm cute, I'm agile and I'm smart. Unfortunately, you have neither of these three things at your disposal and as such, are pretty much screwed."

Alfred narrowed his eyes at him, taking slow steps towards Matthew who started to inch back slowly.

"Are you saying I'm ugly, clumsy and stupid?" The taller boy whispered in the others' ear. Matthew glanced around then pressed his body closer to the one in front of him, whispered "yep!" Loudly into his ear who poking him hard in the stomach. Alfred flinched back, rubbing his tummy where the other had poked him and whined a long painful "Mattie!" Who simply laughed at him.

With a growl, threw himself at the laughing boy and started tickling him. They rolled around, both trying to out-tickle the other as they both giggled and mock fought each other. A cough interrupted them.

"Am I interrupting something?" The tall, elegant shape of Francis Bonnefoy stood in the door, his curly blond hair in a messy ponytail, wearing red velvet pyjamas. Matthew smiled at his elder brother and tapped Alfred on the shoulder so the other would let go of him. He then stood up and walked over to the Frenchman.

"Bonjour, grand frère." He said as he hugged the elder man around the waist. He felt the other man lower his head and whisper in his ear "its rather odd, but I have been home the whole night and didn't notice your entry. It wouldn't have anything to do with that open window would it, mon cher?"

Matthew opened his eyes wide, his face taking on its innocent look, his eyes filled with sadness at the thought of his dear elder brother suspecting him of such a horrible deed.

"How could you accuse me of such a thing? You wound me, you truly do. These accusations burn a whole through my poor heart, leaving a scar that will never heal. It will always mark me, the proof of you accusing me of a thing so horrible, so monstrous-" Francis covered his mouth with a long delicate hand to stop the speech spilling out of his mouth.

"Of course. I apologize for accusing you of such a horrible thing. Truly it is a sin that I should doubt you." The amusement in his eyes made it clear that he didn't believe a word either were saying but he wouldn't mention the truth to his lover, Arthur.

They shared a conspiring smile that confused Alfred before Francis walked out, waving goodnight. Matthew shooed out his brother, then curled into his bed, a pile of blankets covering him and protecting him from the cold. A small smile light his face as he fell asleep, the wind whooshing outside whispering, 'Soon, soon,' as it caressed his face.

-This Way Comes-

Hum, well let's see were this is going...

Patrick Suskind owns _The Perfume_ translated form German where it came out under the name _Das Parfum_.

Bonjour grand frère- Hello big brother

Mon cher- My dear


	2. School and Trouble

So, thank you all for adding me to your alert list. I am so sorry about the spelling mistakes, I haven't uploaded anything in a really long time. If someone could tell me how to go back and correct the text, that would be definitely awesome.

Oh and those who reviewed thank you very much, I appreciate it!

My page breakers are gone. Where are my poor lines?

-This Way Comes-

Matthew woke up the next morning by falling out of bed. He whimpered at the touch of the cold floor. Definitely a lovely way to wake up on a Friday morning. He pulled down a few blankets and wrapped himself inside them, creating a cocoon. He closed his eyes and decided to fall back asleep. He liked that idea, it was a good plan. A hand wrapped around his foot and dragged him outside his nest let him know that his entourage didn't agree and wouldn't let him fallow through with his plan. He whined and refused to open his eyes as he curled into a tight ball.

"Up, up, up! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the sky is blue so get up so you can enjoy it too!" The bright voice danced with happiness and made Matthew want to vomit. He tried to kick somewhere in Alfred's direction but it wasn't an easy feat with his eyes closed. He continued to try and was rewarded with a hit. Score.

"Mattie!" Alfred wined, elongating the word and generally being annoying. "Stop being so me_an!_" The emphasis on the last syllable gave Matthew a sharp stab of mental pain. He opened his eyes and glared at his almost brother resentfully.

"Die, slowly and painfully."

"Whoa Mattie, what's got your panties in a twist?"

"It's morning, it's early, there is school, you pushed me off my bed, I'm cold, your voice is grating,_ need I go on_?" He sent a vicious glare at Alfred who smiled innocently. There was a hallo, wings and everything. Matthew hissed at his 'I am but an innocent angel' routine. He stood up, grabbed his arm, tugged him towards the door to his room, pushed him outside ignoring his protests, then closed and locked the door. One good thing done.

He meticulously placed his multiple blankets on the bed one at a time, arranging each one before moving to the next. He smoothed down the top one, placing his pillow neatly before turning to get dressed. He pulled on his customary red sweatshirt to finish the outfit, a maple leaf standing proudly on the back. He ran down the steps, jumping over the last three and walked slowly to the kitchen. On one hand he wanted to arrive before Alfred but he knew running into the kitchen would just end badly. He saw a blur run past him into the room ahead. It was greeted by an angry Arthur.

"Don't run inside the house, you dolt! You might knock something over! Get out off the kitchen and walk back into it like a civilized human being. No, stop arguing, just go do it. I don't care if it means Matthew will arrive before you, at least he can walk around like a normal person!"

Alfred walked out, sneering angrily at the floor. Matthew sent him a superior smile and walked into the kitchen. His arrival went unnoticed by the people inside. Arthur was huffing at the spelling in the New York Times "It's realise not realize you twits." While Francis was speaking to his secretary, organizing a ride to the airport.

Matthew considered opening his mouth to greet them, but knew they were too involved in their own little worlds to notice him. He sighed then walked over to the closet to fetch the box of maple crunch cereal. He poured himself a bowl as Alfred came back and got into another fight with Arthur, this time about the jeans Alfred was wearing. "Take them off!" "Why?" "Why? Because they have holes in them Alfred!" "Because that's the style, but you're so old you probably don't even remember what that word means do you? It's not like you have any sense of style, _Arthur_."

That shut up the older man who glared at the younger boy. Matthew could easily read the hurt in his eyes. Up until last year, Alfred had called Arthur Dad or Pops, but after said man had quit his job as a police officer and went into law, the young American had refused to call him that. In his almost-twin's mind, the other was betraying the police force (Alfred's dream job) by turning his back on them and joining the 'enemy'.

Matthew sighed, dropped his bowl in the sink, kissed his elder brother's cheek who absent absentmindedly waved him goodbye and went outside to wait for the school bus. He was joined by Alfred a few moments later.

"You should try to be nicer to him." Matthew stated, staring at the street.

"I don't want to talk about it." Alfred mumbled staring at his feet. The other boy sighed then grabbed the former's hand. Alfred tightened the hold. They didn't undo their hands until it was time to head towards their different classes.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew tried really hard to stay awake, but as the voice droned on about gravity and acceleration, he felt his eyes close slowly...until he was violently poked.

He sat up and turned around frowning at Matthias who sent him a cheeky smile and wave. It was always a surprise to him that a boy so all-around stupid could be such a genius in physics. He stuck his tongue at the taller blond. The other responded with a wink. He turned back to stare at his teacher, knowing that if he tried to fall asleep again, the other would annoy him awake. He started to doodle in his notebook, drawing a bird eating a worm.

He would have continued to read his book but he knew that would result in Matthias kicking him. Something he desperately wanted to avoid. Matthias kicked _hard_. He spent the rest of the class daydreaming about fire, ants scrambling around and nails. A rather interesting combination that filled him with ideas, concepts that he scribbled into the margins of his notebook.

The minute the bell rang he escaped to lunch. Now was the time for the big debate. Did he sit with Alfred and his friends and be ignored the whole time or should he sit with his kind-of friends, and then deal with a whiny, bitchy and generally annoying Alfred?

He glanced at the table where said boy was talking rather boisterously, his arms flying around him as he imitated what was either a drunk, vertically challenged bird or a mentally incompetent, drowning rat. Either way it was very disturbing. Luckily, when Alfred was completely absorbed in a task, his brain was too small to be able to do anything else. As such, Matthew was able to sneak past his table and head over to his kind-of friends.

He gave a small wave as he sat down, receiving a nod from Lukas and a smile from Tino, who was chattering in Berwald's ear. Matthias was still buying his lunch and Emil was dead to the world around as he texted a mile a minute. He carefully opened his lunch, taking out a plastic box full of cold pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup. The others at the table were used to his standard meal and didn't react in anyway. Matthew looked around and seeing that the cafeteria line was long, decided to converse with Lukas while waiting for Matthias' arrival.

"Hey." He started, smiling at the Norwegian boy in front of him.

"Tonight, 7:00 pm, Matthias' house. Don't be late." Lukas stated in a clear concise manner before staring at the table in deep concentration as he ignored the world around him. Matthew sighed. He wanted to argue but knew it was no use. Last time he had been invited and hadn't bothered to show up, Berwald and Matthias had teamed up, snuck into his house, kidnapped him while Tino reassured the adults that everything was fine, Matthew would be back the next day bright and early, what were their plans? Oh why bowling of course! Then a sleepover, no worries they planned to be in bed by ten. Coupled with his innocent smile, cute face and good guy routine, his idiotic housemates had swallowed the bullshit down easily and happily. Idiots.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? Is it possible? Is it true? Has the glorious Matthew Williams deigned to sit with us unworthy peasants for once? What an honour!" Matthias boomed in a loud voice, as he carefully place his lunch on the cafe then proceeded to drop to the floor making worshiping sounds as he inclined himself in front of him. Matthew hid his face in his arms, trying to fold in on himself thinking over and over that he was invisible, no one could notice him, he was invisible, no one could see him- Berwald grabbed Matthias' collar and lifted him of the floor, ignoring his threats and demands that the other stop touching him, pushing him in his seat. Lukas then grabbed his tie and smashed the idiot's face into the table.

"Shut up you idiot! Do you want Matthew to go sit with his brother?" The smaller boy hissed, keeping a tight grip on the others' tie.

Matthias glared before mumbling a soft "no". Emil, Lukas' younger brother, glanced around evaluating the damage before announcing the results.

"You're fine. Your brother's still imitating a headless chicken." Matthew sent a grateful smile to the other boy.

"I thought he looked more like a drunk bird or a drowning rat." The two boys shared a small smile, identical purple eyes meeting in a look of perfect understanding before both proceeded to look away in favour of returning to their earlier occupations.

An awkward silence floated around the table. Tino, who hated any kind of awkward moments started rambling to fill the silence. Everyone relaxed as they listened to the unending flow of words and the tense atmosphere calmed. Matthias commenting and teasing Tino, Lukas occasionally insulting Matthias, Berwald cutting in when things started to get heated, Emil listening in and smiling softly as Matthew added a sarcastic remark here and there. Things were back to normal.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew tensed his forearms to avoid swaying, staying in a precarious equilibrium while doing a handstand on a metal bar. He continued to keep his body perpendicular to the bar in his grasp before finally relaxing his grip, arching his body backwards as his toes drew a circle in the air. When he started to come back up, he lifted his legs then let go of the bar, flying for a few seconds before his fingers wrapped around a nearby rope. He let out a quiet grunt as he lifted his legs over his head, crossed them around the rope which was caught between his thighs then let his hands hang freely, the momentum from his flight made the rope sway side to side.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of pure freedom, the wind caressing his face, his arms floating lifelessly by his side, and allowed himself a few moments of pure relaxation.

When the rope finally immobilized, he was ready. He gripped the rope tightly with both hands then untangled his legs from around the rope. The former rushed downwards as gravity caught up with them. He smothered a gasp of pain as the sudden extra weight tugged him down the rope and ripped his palms into shreds as the muscles in his arms shrieked as the tried to stop the descent. He started to slide down the rope, this time fully in control and further burning his hands.

He immobilized again, seconds away from the ground proceeding to jump onto the solid earth. He sat on the floor, his legs laying down, staring at the rope swinging lazily centimeters form his head. A wide almost insane smile his lips as he pulsed with the adrenaline flowing through his body, his heart still pumping with excitement.

His laughter, wild and free, rang through the empty room. He was flushed, his breath quick and shallow. He let his torso fall to the ground as he started to calm down, the exhilaration fleeing his body leaving in its place a calm and contented feeling along with a healthy dose of fatigue.

'Thank god Alfred wasn't here, otherwise he would have killed me for doing such a stupid stunt.' Had he missed the rope, or hadn't been able to slow his fall, he would have injured himself rather gravely, seeing as the original metal bar was a good 15 meters in the air. He curled up on himself and fell asleep on the cold ground.

His awakening wasn't quite as peaceful as was his falling asleep. He was cold and his hands were hurting intensely. He glanced down to judge the damage and winced. His hands were covered in rope burns and blistered and some had then popped, coating his fingers in dried blood. It was a mess. The next time he would have to protect them somehow.

He had attended gymnastic lessons for years, stopping only when he moved in with his brother. He had continued to practice regularly until his brother had begged him to stop. He still practiced occasionally, as it was a way to relax his mind and body. Today he had felt the pressing need to escape and seeing as he didn't have the time to go to the club tonight, there was no hockey practice and he wasn't working today, so this was the next best thing.

He finally gathered the courage necessary to glance at his wristwatch. He paled dramatically, eyes wide and panicking. He was past late. He didn't bother changing, just grabbed his school bag and ran to the bus stop and hoped the driver would actually notice him this time. Perhaps it was an unlikely dream but he could always hope.

-This Way Comes-

"Do you know how worried I was?"

Matthew glared resentfully at the poor innocent floor, avoiding Alfred's burning gaze. Luckily, both Arthur and Francis seemed to be absent. Frustrated at his avoidance, Alfred grabbed Matthew's shoulders and shook him. He continued to stare at the floor, reluctant to meet his almost-brother's gaze.

Alfred started to pull Matthew closer to his body using his superior strength to his advantage to trap the other. Matthew's speed allowed to bring up his arms to keep their bodies separated only to bite his lip as he realized his mistake. He finally lifted his eyes up in time to watch Alfred pale to a colour very close to white with a greenish tint. He was shaking as he gently took the Canadian's hands into his gently but firm grip.

"You were practicing again." His voice was hollow and flat while his eyes looked dead. He stared at the burns, the dried blood and the blisters in horror.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

That more than anything was why Matthew had stopped doing on a regular basis. The guilt started to eat at him as he watched the disappointment leak out of Alfred. He hated hurting them and they always reacted so negatively when he was hurt. Quite honestly the wounds weren't that bad and he had had worse, but the always acted like it was such a big deal. It wasn't really.

How could Matthew tell him that sometimes, he could feel himself go crazy, utterly powerless and incapable of doing anything? That by doing gymnastics he felt in control of his life and that the feeling of freedom and peace he had felt made the minor side effects worth it? That it was an opportunity to escape his daily life? That in moments like the one where he was hanging onto the rope upside down he felt powerful and important? That doing insane acts was genetic and restraint only lead to insanity. How could he say that?

His dear, poor almost-brother gently lead him slowly up the stairs whispering nonsense in his ear like Matthew was a frightened deer, all the while giving him a wounded look. The guilt trip was starting to get to him.

Alfred guided him to the bathroom and ran water to clean his hands. He proceeded to rub some cream onto the cuts, blisters and rope burns. Matthew didn't think it was necessary but kept his mouth shut hoping to avoid another 'how could you do this to me?' look. To finish, Alfred bandaged his hands before dropping a kiss on his palm.

"Here, it should be all better." Matthew nodded, then with a quiet thank you ran to his room to get ready for the evening. He still had a meeting at Matthias' house to attend. He felt his heart squeeze at the notion he couldn't go to the club tonight but consoled himself with the thought that he could attend tomorrow.

-This Way Comes-

So that's the chapter. 15 meters is somewhere between 40 to 45 feet. I hope you enjoyed it and I'll try to update soon. This time I didn't bother with page breakers.


	3. Fire Burning

Matthew woke up to a blinding white light. He moaned and hid his face into the person he was using as a pillow. His head was pulsing painfully and he was extremely nauseous. Another body somewhere to his left shifted and their legs ended up kicking him. He let out a pitiful whine and kicked back.

"Hey, not cool." The voice was raspy, a little bit whiny and sounded tired. Another voice snarled back,"shut up, I'm sleeping."

He tried for a few moments to remember what had happened the previous evening but in the end gave up. A pair arms of around his legs tightened their hold as everyone started to wake up. "How is it that every time we all get drunk together we always wake up on top of each other?" The voice was cool and even. It had to belong to Lukas.

Only he could sound so unaffected and superior even with a deadly hangover. Sometimes Matthew wondered if he was actually a martian disguised as human being, trying to gain knowledge about the species so that he could achieve world domination. He tried to picture Lukas with green skin, six eyes and antennas standing in front of a body being dissected in his spaceship announcing in his casual drone to the crew that 'in a human, this pinkish organ is called a heart it is a vital muscle in their body... '. He snorted.

"Whatever it is you are thinking, I really don't want to know." Lukas stated in a flat tone. Matthew stuck his tongue out in his general direction. He received a superior snort in return. He winced after he was abruptly kicked in the back by Matthias. "Hey, what was that for?" He whined.

"Go make breakfast." Was the only answer he received.

Matthew debated the idea. On one hand he was comfortable and his head hurt and he really didn't want to get up. On the other hand, he was hungry, making the awakened part of their group cook would result in food poisoning and waking up Berwald, the only other person who could cook would result in a very painful and sudden death.

"Fine. But I hate you all and hope you choke on air then die an embarrassing, painful death. Then I will laugh at you."

"You would be hopeless without us and anyways what you just said makes no sense. We can only die once. We cannot both choke on air and die an embarrassing death." Lukas' tone was very matter of fact and Matthew didn't bother protesting.

He got up slowly, looking downwards to see a pretty pink bra graced with frills and bows was sitting proudly on his shirt. A glance in the mirror notified him that his face was smeared in horribly applied makeup. He groaned and turned around to send a questioning look around the room. The cruel smirks he saw on his so-called friends faces basically translated to 'yes we remember, of course we have pictures that will end up being blackmail material, no we will not delete them, haha we are so awesome and evil.'

A small smirk graced his lips as he walked down the stairs. It was time to get his revenge. With that thought in mind, he skipped cheerfully down the stairs. The people left in the room shivered as their subconscious tried to warn them of their impeding doom. Unfortunately, they were not paying attention to their instincts and missed their only warning.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew hummed slightly absentmindedly as he mixed the light brown batter, his insides churning with guilt. Pancakes were sacred, food so magnificent that it had been created by the gods to give people a small taste of heaven on earth. They should be revered by the general population and there was something heinous about how he was deliberately sabotaging them. Well, it wasn't truly deliberate, it was almost an accident after all, the sugar and salt resembled each other greatly and they were right next to each other and he hadn't really been paying attention, so there was a possibility that he had grabbed the wrong product but he hadn't meant to, truthfully. It was a mistake, honestly.

Well kind off.

Almost.

Probably.

He continued to try to convince himself of this fact as the heavenly smell brought down all the cruel, devious fiends from the upstairs bedroom. The first pancake on the left burner always went to Lukas and he pretended not to notice Emil adding a suspicious substance to it. Once everyone except form Matthew and Berwald who had jumped on a box of cheerios and was hugging it fiercely to his chest all the while crooning 'my precious' were seated and had their pancakes in front of them, they dug in.

The sounds of gagging and retching were music to Matthew's ears. He watched as Matthias turned red and ran to the kitchen. So he might have added cayenne pepper to the Dane's pancakes. The bastard deserved it. Forcing him to stay awake in Physics class...

He pouted when he realised that Lukas' either having sensed the danger or having been forewarned by invisible trolls hadn't tried the pancakes, preferring to gulp down as much coffee as he could while still keeping an aura of poise and dignity. He noticed the pout on Emil's face and was suddenly fiercely glad that the Norwegian boy hadn't touched the food.

He froze when his gaze landed on Tino, who was happily munching away on the ruined pancakes, chattering all the while in Buchwald's ear, who occasionally answered with a grunt or a nod, with a look of deep contentment on his face. His eyes widened slowly but a shake from Berwald convinced him to ignore the situation. He reminded himself to never eat anything the Finnish man recommended.

Matthias chose that moment to return, his face clouded as he grumbled under his breath cursing the world and insulting Matthew who simply smiled innocently back. The smile was gone the moment the Dane whipped out his cellphone, showing him a picture of Matthew in heels and wearing the smudged makeup dancing on top of the counter.

"If I don't remember it, it never happened." Was one of Matthew's favourite sentences. Apparently he lost all inhibitions and sanity the minute he touched alcohol and the worst part was he could never remember the next day. Usually a little while later, something embarrassing he had done previously would come up in a casual conversation in a 'hey remember that time when Matthew was absolutely shitfaced and tried to seduce the art teacher?' He was then described in detail what horribly embarrassing thing he had done while inebriated.

His automatic response/defense mechanism 'if I don't remember it, it never happened.' Was created to deal with the problem. Now all he needed was his friends to follow that rule and then they would all be swimming in a lake of denial together. Of course, since his friends loved being difficult, they basically ignored his rule. Bastards, the lot of them.

Emil, being the nice, kind, sweet person that he was plucked the cellphone out of Matthias' hands and with a flourish deleted the picture. He turned to beam at the Icelandic boy, deeply touched and a little surprised, only to see a copy of the picture staring back at him from Emil cellphone.

"The less copies that exist of the picture the more it's worth against you." Emil stated while smiling slowly, with more teeth than was usual.

Bastards, the lot of them.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew was overwhelmed by the disgusting smell of dried sweat, vomit and fornication when he walked into his house. Apparently he wasn't the only one to go wild last night. His hypothesis was confirmed by the number of passed out bodies laying all over the place in various states of undress. He sighed and rolled his eyes. His almost twin brother always felt the need to invite dozens of people to his parties, most of whom he didn't know and he always lost control over the parties. It was very annoying as the mess was always extensive.

What really made him blow a casket was the sight of two intertwined naked bodies in his bed. It was one thing to have sex on the floor, or to sleep in an unknown bed, but to have people doing it in his bed was too much. He pulled them out of his bed and onto the floor and went to find the stereo.

Once he found it, he turned the volume up to the maximum before turning on the radio. The horrifyingly loud noise that escaped the radio had everyone awake and groaning within seconds. Once everyone had entered the realm of consciousness,he turned off the radio then proceeded to cup his hands around his mouth then bellowed "Everyone out! Now!"

For once, his invisibility was not in effect as the people in the living room scrambled to grab all of their belongings before leaving the house as quickly as possible. Good. Now all he had to do was find that idiotic brother of his.

He never could understand why his brother had to invite so many people. Wasn't better to invite just a few people that you were close to and that you could kind of trust to help clean up and to just fool around with instead of inviting dozens and turning it into an grinding, moaning almost orgy-like party with pure strangers? But hey what did he know. It wasn't like he could ever remember the parties with his friends when they got drunk.

In the end, it was his idiotic brother who found him instead of the contrary. He had been entering the study when Alfred dancing around in his birthday suit had jumped on him. He immediately pushed the other off and closed his eyes tightly. Oh dear sweet Lord, his brain burned...

"Alfred for God's sake, put some clothes on."

"But Mattie, I am wearing clothing, see?"

"A cowboy hat, a belt and cowboy boots do not count as clothing. Put some boxers on right now or I'll rip off your dick and feed it to you slowly then shove the last and biggest piece down your throat for you to choke and die on. Do not test me."

Alfred grumbled but acquiesced sullenly and pulled on a pair of boxers he had whipped out of seemingly nowhere. Matthew opened his mouth then quickly snapped it shut. He decided he didn't really want to know where they came from. He might be even more emotionally scarred than he was already.

-Oh God, the _cowboy boots...-_

He quickly shook his head, erasing all thoughts that had been previously flowing through his mind. He quickly glanced around, noticing the various broken objects, empty beer cans and pools of vomit before sighed and rubbing his eyes. It was going to take forever to clean all of this up...

-This Way Comes-

Gilbert huffed before letting himself fall on the fairly ragged leather sofa. It creaked worrisomely underneath his sudden weight but managed to stay upright, which was quite frankly a miracle in itself considering its age and all of the horrible treatment it had suffered at the hands of its uncaring master. It tried to communicate its protest through some more groaning, but went unnoticed.

Gilbert was mind-numbingly bored. There was nothing that he wanted to do that he could do. He had no work to do, the stuck up wannabe aristocrat and his bitch of a girlfriend were out of town and his darling little brother was at a sleepover at the Japanese kid's house. He could try to find it and head over to annoy his ickle baby brother, but it would necessitate way to much effort to actually find the place. Gott, he was such a loser. This was a Saturday night and here he was sitting in his living room alone in the dark. Well, at least he wasn't watching soap opera reruns.

He spent a few minutes sitting down, counting the cracks on the ceiling, the soft ticks of the grandfather clock leaning against the nearby wall trying to come up with an activity. The memory of purple eyes, blond hair and an underage kid sitting in a strip club came back to him. Well, on one hand, he really hated the all-around tackiness of strip clubs. On the other hand, there was the all encompassing boredom that was slowly eating him alive. In the end, the realisation that if he didn't leave the house, his last option to escape a boredom so complete it would result in suicide was soap operas convinced him to head down to Lars' place. At the very worst, if nothing else, he would be able to annoy the club owner.

He walked slowly, enjoying the feeling of the last rays of sunlight tickling his arms as he slowly strolled towards his destination. He almost turned around and walked back the way he came when he felt the harsh lights of the club's sign attack his poor eyes, but the thought of cliche'd plots, busty woman and tearful confessions convinced him to steel himself and walked in. Anything was better than soap operas.

He glanced around the room ignoring the girl twisting around a poll, a Saturday night special apparently, finally seeing the boy. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt again, thought this time it was a dark gray. He was deeply absorbed by a worn copy of 1984, this time in English. Interestingly, the kid greeted him first not even lifting his eyes away from his book.

"There are 525 600 minutes in a year."

He stared for a couple of seconds, trying to understand the relevance, before he finally recognised the almost quote. Apparently the brat was testing him on his culture.

"Rent? Really now?"

The blond kid shrugged, still not sparing him a single look. Well, well, well. Hello superior complex, lovely to meet you too.

"It was a good play and had an interesting plot." The information was stated in a flat tone, daring him to comment. He decided to play nice for now and not turn it into a confrontation.

"Ever seen the play?" He asked casually, sitting in the chair across from him. Finally the blond brat deigned to glance at him, assessing him coolly before turning back to his book.

"On Broadway, second row." Gilbert snorted. A rich kid. He should have known. But really, what was a rich, well educated, or at least, he assumed by his choice in literature, underage boy doing in a strip club if he wasn't watching the show?

"Is there a problem here?" The question was asked by the bartender, a well built south American man with long dreadlocks spilling out from beneath a headband. He was standing protectively close to the brat and was staring at Gilbert with a mixture a suspicion and unnecessary hostility. He opened his mouth to say something stupid in response but was cut off by the kid.

"No worries Miguel, everything is fine." He continued to glare at the albino, before turning back to Matthew and whispered something to him. He then turned around and walked back to the bar to serve the customers.

"So... who was the bodyguard, little bird?" Gilbert questioned, slumping in his seat and stealing a nearby customer's alcoholic beverage that he downed in a gulp. Matthew raised an eyebrow, but realising that the other man at the nearby table was fully absorbed and hadn't noticed anything decided not to comment. Gilbert winked at him.

"His name is Miguel. He's from Cuba and he's been very protective of me ever since I did him a small favour." He had hesitated towards the end, letting Gilbert know that he had chosen his words carefully. First Lars, now this Miguel? What kind of favours could a kid like him do? Unless...

"No! It wasn't like that! It wasn't...nothing sexual." The kid's face was a deep red and he was avoiding his eyes. He felt a wave of relief. The idea that the kid had been trading in sexual favours had disturbed him. After all, he had to be around the age of his brother and the thought of Ludwig having to do that horrified him and disgusted him.

They avoided looking at each other, their gazes dancing around the room, until Gilbert's eyes landed on the boy's hands. They were covered for some reason in bandages. He frowned, but kept the observation to himself to use at another moment.

He eventually managed to draw the kid back into a conversation as they debated fiercely who, in a catfight between Lady Gaga and Katy Perry would win. They spent the rest of the night conversing pleasantly and at some point, Matthew actually put the book away to settle his full attention on Gilbert. Their conversation drifted from topic to topic and finally the blond interrupted a passionate speech about the ego of Victor Hugo to announce that it was fairly close to midnight and he had to leave and head home. Both were slightly disappointed as they had enjoyed the discussion. It was rare for Matthew to meet someone outside of his brother Francis who knew what he was talking about and Gilbert was amused at how passionate and defensive the other boy could get when a favourite author was attacked.

Neither noticed a tense Lars, who was texting a mile a minute, nervously glancing around the club, jumping every time someone came in through the doors. His face was pale and stress had aged him about ten years. He frowned unhappily at the leaving group, but did not dare call Gilbert's attention as of now. He didn't want to drag Matthew into the situation more than he already was. Truthfully, it was very possible that his actions would not have any effect. Even he, who was far more aware than most people had no true idea of the dept of Matthew's involvement. But still, if only to soothe his conscious, he would call Gilbert to the bar another day and inform him of the new complications.

-This Way Comes-

Sorry for the wait, real life got in the way. I do not own 1984 form Georges Orwell. Thank you for the positive comments. I will be going back to correct the earlier chapters, I have noticed a large amount of errors that are making me squeak in embarrassment. I do believe I need a beta, but am not quite sure how that works. If anyone would be interested please contact me. Be forewarned that as English is not my first language, my syntax, expressions and spelling will often be not quite right. Also, do not be afraid to harass me. I need someone with a bit of a thick skin because I am prideful of what I write and need someone who is ready to scream and scold me. Thank you for reading!


	4. Cauldron bubble

The shrill ring of his cellphone woke Matthew up at an hour he considered much too early. He moaned and tried to block out the sound by hiding his head under his dark blue pillow. Unfortunately the barrier was not strong enough and he could still hear the obnoxious noise emitted by his phone. He cursed weakly and grabbed the infernal and at the moment much hated contraption from his desk. He called out a weak and distorted 'Hello'.

"Is this phone line secured?"

As soon as the words penetrated his brain and he recognized the caller's voice, he found himself sitting upright, now wide awake as his heartbeat quickened. He knew he was on the brink of receiving horrifying news. A sensation composed of fear, dread and hysteria rose within him. He took a few slow, deep breaths to try to calm himself down. It was no use panicking yet. Maybe it wasn't going to be what he thought it was. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Yes it is." He answered and was happy to see that his voice was steady, showing no indication of the fear he felt.

"Good. This is Lithuania. We don't have much time because Feliks will be back soon. Russia is back in town."

Matthew exhaled slowly, feeling his body slump as his head slowly hit the wall behind him. He wished he hadn't woken up this morning. That this was nothing but a dream. Actually, this was more like a nightmare than a dream. He slowly pinched himself, the pain both a confirmation of this reality and something that helped ground him. He mastered himself then replied.

"Where did you get this information from?"

"Ukraine." That made sense. If someone would know it would be her.

"Thank you for the information. I'll warn Finland. Inform the others."

"What are we going to do?"

The question had been asked tentative tone of voice, raw with fear and uncertainty. As much as he wanted to comfort the other and tell him everything was going to be all right, it would be a lie and they both knew it. In the end, honesty was his only option.

"I have no idea."

After he had hung up the phone. Matthew found himself staring unseeingly outside the window, his brain numb. He couldn't think. He didn't know what to do. He had hoped everything was resolved after the events of last year but apparently the past was coming back to haunt them all. Or at the very least, punch them in the face and sneer at their pitiful attempts to forget.

He shook himself out of his dark mood and grabbed the phone, dialing one of the few numbers he knew by heart.

"Hello, this is Tino speaking! How may I help you?" The bright and cheery voice of his friend caused his insides to twist painfully. He knew very well that the news was going to crush his spirits.

"Is the phone line secured?" The silence at the other end let him know that Tino had figured out something was not quite right. After all, normally people didn't ask that question when they called.

"Give me a second." Was the answer, delivered in a very serious tone.

He heard the Finn give Berwald who was apparently in the kitchen with him an excuse about needing a towel before leaving the room. Once Tino confirmed that everything was okay he delivered the news. He decided that in this situation, being direct would probably be best.

"Russia's in town." A harsh exhalation was his only answer for a few moments. Eventually a harsh, hysterical laugh mixed with sobs exploded from Tino. Matthew stayed silent, letting the other calm down at his own rate. After a while it stopped and the conversation resumed.

"Should we tell Iceland and Norway?" This made Matthew pause. He had tried very hard to protect the both of them, to keep them out of his problems. But on the other hand, they needed to be prepared for any eventuality.

"Probably."

"Thank you for warning me." Tino's voice was steadier although there was still the hint of a quiver present.

"Anytime."

They both hung up after that, trying to deal with the information in their own ways. Matthew slightly pitied the Finn seeing as he had Berwald over and the man was very attentive and likely to notice that something was wrong. Matthew at least was alone with his brother who was completely oblivious to life around him.

His body slid down the wall he had bee leaning against for support until he was sitting on the floor. His head fell back and hit the wall with a low thud. He forcefully exhaled all the air in his lungs as he closed his eyes. He had a headache that was only getting stronger the more time passed. If he wanted to get through this mostly unharmed with all his precious people untouched, he would need a plan.

He stood up abruptly and started to pace. First he needed to identify the target. That part was easy, it was Ivan Braginsky. Second, he needed to identify his objectives. He froze. What was his objective? Keeping his friends and family safe, of course, but how? He had thought the possibility of being arrested would keep him away and it had-for a while. Actually, why was the Russian back? Why was he no longer afraid of going to prison? Okay. So for now, his primary objective would be to gain the most information possible. After that, he would wait to see what was Ivan's goals and react accordingly. Hopefully, he would come up with a solution. The logical part of his brain whispered that the only sure way to end the threat would be through the death of the other man, but he refused to acknowledge it as a possibility.

Information first.

He quickly walked over to his laptop and turned it on. His fingers tapped the table impatiently as he waited for it to finish loading. As soon as he could, he opened the internet and started typing out an email to an old acquaintance.

_Dear Estonia,_

_As you probably are aware of, Russia is back in town. I was wondering if you could..._

-This Way Comes-

Gilbert was sitting outside in a park, enjoying his coffee, black no-sugar, staring at the clouds at the people nearby. He entertained himself by making faces at the children and after that looking incredibly innocent and mature when the parents hearing their children's explanation, turned around to look at him.

Gilbert jumped in surprise when he felt his cellphone buzz against his leg. Glancing around to make sure no one had noticed his loss of composure, he saw a snotty little kid he had been previously terrorizing stick his tongue at him. Gilbert sneered at the child, making him cry as he took the machine out of his pocket to read his newest text.

_Lars' club, Wednesday to Sunday. Keep your eyes open and mouth shut. Continue until new orders come through. Watch out for any threats to the establishment or its workers._

He frowned at the message, trying to catch every possible hidden meaning. Unfortunately, his boss loved being vague, especially if it annoyed his employees. He sighed and tried to figure out what was so special about that club anyways. Hopefully Lars would fill him in as soon as possible. Then again, knowing the man, he was likely to keep Gilbert in the dark.

The kid he had terrified sent him a pouty look that left Gilbert quite unaffected he left, resisting the impulse to do something that would really make him scream. In both terror and pain. The only kid he had ever liked beside himself was Luddy who had been much more mature than those brats at that age.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew had a feeling that meeting here had not been one of his best ideas. They usually didn't meet to exchange information in a place where they were as well-known as this one, but it was easier for her to meet him here and he had been planning on coming to relieve some of his stress anyways. Still, he could not help but glance around the room every once in a while, trying to spot anyone suspicious. He knew deep down that the suspicious looking people were usually innocent and vice-versa, but he could not stop himself. He wholly blamed Hollywood.

When he heard choked whispering and the sounds of people passing out, he knew she had arrived. He lifted his head up and came across her walking through the room with a demure smile on her face, looking devastating dressed in a long black dress that was incredibly tight around the chest area. Then again, he admitted to himself, with a chest that size he wasn't even sure if it was possible to find a shirt that would truly be loose enough to hide her chest. Gravity, after all would weigh the fabric down on top of her ample breasts. He could tell by the curl of her smile that she was aware of the effect she was having and enjoying every moment of it.

He rose to greet her and she rushed towards him, lifting him off the ground and crushing him against her. He smiled softly at her as she greeted him, her accent slightly distorting his name.

"Hey Kat. Looking good."

She smiled shyly and tittered, a slight blush gracing her cheek.

"Oh Matvey, no need to say that! You are too kind, truly."

Kat was an old friend of his from Ukraine and was in charge of the way women were treated at the club. Lars had pretty much given her the job after the events of back then. She had embraced it and took her job very seriously.

"Why did he come back?" The question had slipped out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop it. He had originally planned to continue their airy, empty conversation of niceties a bit longer but he lacked the self control necessary. Immediately her expression sobered.

"He has unfinished business here. What they did seriously hurt his pride."

He absorbed her answer, knowing she kept it as vague as possible in case others were listening in. He glanced around the room again, noticing the weird white haired man -Gilbert?- completely focused in his conversation with Lars. He wondered why the other was at the club. From what he had gleaned from the man, he didn't like it very much. Kat tapped him on the shoulder to regain his attention he turned back to her smiling in apology.

"What should I do?" He hoped for a wild moment that she had come up with the perfect solution. That she would say something and he could just follow her directions blindly. Unfortunately her answer was rather unhelpful and obvious.

"Avoid him."

They continued to talk pleasantly, straying in far less dangerous topics, as he complimented her dress, she burst into tears thanking him strongly. She told him stories about Feliks and his numerous attempts to blackmail/threaten/coax/convince Toris into cross-dressing. In return, he told her about the time he had managed to convince Alfred that he was a vampire, covering himself in white foundation and drinking nothing but red wine. By the end of the week, Alfred had started to wear garlic cloves necklaces and shoved crucifixes at him shouting 'Begone son of Satan!'

Eventually, she announced with a heartbroken expression that she had to leave. She bent over him and kissed his cheek before sauntering away. All the men around him were glowering darkly at him. He sent them a smirk and a wink with a cheeky wave.

So he had a slight tendency to be dramatic.

He opened his math book, blocking out everything except the loud pounding of music and his homework in front of him. Between joking around with Kat, the pounding of the music and the dim lighting in the club, he felt, comfortable and at peace. He would concentrate on all of his problems tomorrow. For now he would just enjoy the present moment.

-This Way Comes-

Gilbert was not enjoying his evening. Lars being the annoying fuck that he was, refused to give any straight answers as to what was going on, being vague and turning in circles on purpose. Gilbert was very close to either tugging on his hair screaming in frustration or strangling the dutch. Or both, that could be interesting.

He rubbed his eyes thoroughly, a headache developing from the pounding of the drums as the girl in front took of her skirt, doing a little twirl. He was tired, pissed off and wanted to go home. If Lars answered one more of his questions with another question...

What he would have done would never be known as the dutch suddenly paled and stood up. Gilbert stared at him with a stupid look on his face for a second before calling out,

"Hey! Wait! Where the fuck are you going you little shit? Come back here!" He ran after Lars, who had just grabbed a woman out of the crowd before running off with her and dragging her off somewhere. He tried to follow, but the club was full today and by the time he had pushed himself through the crowd, the other was gone.

"What the fuck was that?"

Great. So now he was still stuck in the club, except now with nothing to do and no one to answer his questions. He huffed and went back to the table only to see someone else sitting there. He considered pushing the man out of the chair ans starting a fight, but he would end up kicked out of the club, unable to do his job and he desperately needed the money. He sighed and decided to bring a book next time. He remembered he was supposed to keep his eyes open so he analysed the crowd at the club.

Most of them were men of different ages but mostly older, panting harshly with their hands in their pants, for the most part. Every once in a while you came across the shy man brought here by his friends to tease him. There were very few women and all seemed to work there.

He stole a drink from one of the men nearby, almost spitting it out when he realised it was straight Vodka. He glanced at the man from whom he had stolen the drink who was fully absorbed by his cellphone. Looking past the man he saw, Matthew, sleeping on what seemed to be a textbook. He stood up and wandered over. He was surprised to find out the boy snored like a truck, mouth wide open and drool sliding out. He cackled slightly before drawing a mustache and proceeded to take pictures. Who knew, maybe he could use it as blackmail on the kid.

-This Way Comes-

Short chapter is short. Sorry for the delay, I was in Europe for a while, then I went to Saguenay. For those of you not knowing where it is, it's 7 hours north of Montreal. It was cold up there. Seriously. I was wearing a sweatshirt during the day and was still cold. Not cool.

So here is chapter 4, I will not be updating for a while because I am leaving tomorrow to go to New York City for two weeks. Luckily for you, when I come back, I do not start school until September 5th because of the strikes, so I should update at least once before then.

Here is my Tumblr address, I will probably give information about updates and have scenes of the fic that were not included up there.

http(:)

Also, just in case a reader is from Germany, or Poland or Hungary or Republic Tcheque, (french way of spelling, someone correct me if it isn't the same in English) you all have beautiful countries. I will post pictures on Tumblr, if anyone is interested.


	5. Ghosts and Rainbows

Warning: Cursing. Sleeping pills.

Thanks to Mew I is Dinosaur and for reviewing and Mew I is Dinosaur for correcting my spelling of Republic Czech

Returning to a more conscious state was exceedingly painful. Gilbert felt like a madman had gone crazy with a hammer, hitting his head over and over until his brain turned to mush. His throat was dry and his tongue was heavy in his mouth, which had a pasty texture. His feet were killing him and there was something not quite right about his body's position. He opened his eyes slowly, to discover his vision was blurry. He blinked a few times trying to clear his vision. Eventually he was able to take in the scene in front of him. He was hanging upside down, ropes tied around his ankles. He was wearing only his boxers and the kid was standing in front of him, his cellphone out and an evil smirk on his face.

"The fuck? What have you done you evil brat?" Gilbert hissed, the pain in his throat preventing him from screaming.

The last thing he remembered, he had been at the club, fooling around with Matthew. He had grabbed the drink of a nearby customer and downed it. Actually, now that he thought about it, the customer who's drink he stole had looked very familiar...

"That guy, was he the bartender who owed you a favour? The dude from Cuba?"

"Yep!" Matthew answered with a cheerful tone. He smiled sweetly at the albino. "Like you said, he owed me a favour and he doesn't like you very much, seeing as you never buy anything. He ends up losing money because of that, you know. So he has a bit of a grudge."

"So you put sleeping pills in the drink, then had him sit next to us, knowing that I would steal the drink and swallow it down, not suspecting a thing?"

"Yep!"

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Gilbert growled, slightly pissed off that a kid had outsmarted him. He hoped his boss stayed uninformed, otherwise he would never hear the end of it.

"Revenge." Matthew answered in a dark tone of voice, glowering at the man hanging upside down.

"What?"

"You took pictures of me with the mustache and the drool a few weeks ago, and have been using it since then as blackmail material. I decided it was time to get something on you. If you delete all traces of that picture, then no one will ever see this picture. Otherwise, well... I'm sure Lars would just love to frame it on his wall."

Gilbert knew that Lars would also pass the picture over to his boss. The kid had won, he would delete the picture on his cellphone. The ones on his computer on the other hand...

"So let me get this straight. Because I took a picture of you sleeping and drooling with a mustache on your face, you saw fit to drug me, kidnap me, sneak me away to a secret location, tie me up upside down, strip me to my boxers and take pictures? Isn't that a bit extreme?" Gilbert stared at Matthew. He was a little impressed about how far the kid could take a grudge.

"I have two brothers," he announced, thinking of Alfred and Francis, "and if there is one thing living with them has taught me, it's better safe than sorry."

Actually the truth was, the pictures Gilbert had taken were so much more dangerous than the elder man knew. If they ended up on the internet, any members of his family could come across them. It was bad enough that they would all realize that he had a habit of hanging out in clubs, but Francis and Arthur would also recognize the club and would start asking questions.

Questions that were better off left unanswered. Even worse, instead of the members of his household, someone else-namely Ivan- could come across them. In which case, he would be totally and completely screwed.

He was better off over-reacting than letting things go. When it came to Ivan, he refused to take chances.

He was dealing with enough stuff as it was, like the fact that Kat hadn't contacted him since their last meeting and hadn't shown up at the club for work since; Tino's new found and understandable but still slightly disconcerting paranoia and Arthur and Francis' presence in France.

"Fine. I'll erase the pictures from my cell." Gilbert grumbled.

"Actually," Matthew took out Gilbert's cell from his pocket, "I've already done it myself."

Gilbert decided then and there that the minute the little brat let him down, he was going to make the kid pay dearly. He revised that last thought. Not today. He had the mother of all headaches to deal with. Next time then.

Seeing the grimace of pain and the elder man's face, Matthew felt bad. He helped Gilbert down which turned out to be a complicated and painful process that left him laying on the floor, trembling from the pain. Matthew sat down next to him and put the man's head on his lap. He decided to give him a parcel of the truth. "I'm sorry. It's just, if my parents find the pictures..." He left the sentence hanging.

Gilbert understood. He could sort of see were the kid was coming from. Wouldn't stop him from punching him in the face next time he saw Matthew, but still. After that he would definitely be able to forgive him completely.

"Where are we anyways?" Gilbert asked, studying the room they were presently in.

"An unused soundproof room at the club."

-This Way Comes-

Matthew walked home slowly, leaving the club earlier than ever before. It was actually still daytime. He arrived home and opened the door slowly and cautiously, knowing that his brother had gone to a party the night before and unsure whether Alfred was still in in happy-drunk mode or pissed-off-hungover-say-one-word-make-one-sound-and-you-will-die-a-horrible-painful-death mode.

He creeped along the hallway stealthy, feeling a little like a ninja when the next thing he knew, he had his arms full of a naked Alfred.

"Mattie!" Happy-drunk it was.

Sometimes he wondered if Alfred truly was his twin and had been sneaked away at birth. Aside from their strong physical resemblance, they also shared a strong number of habits, like the one where the more they drank, the less clothes they wore.

Alfred dragged him to the kitchen and curled up on Matthew's lap, nuzzling his shoulder. He started babbling about the party, which had apparently only finished about two hours ago. "So we were playing spin the bottle right? Only there was more guys than girls so then Kiku ended up having to kiss that Italian kid-you know, the really grumpy one? I think he's Feli's twin brother. Feli's the really cute kid with that curl in his hair. By the way, I think he's dating that German kid, 'cause they were being all cuddly and then this other girl ruined it 'cause she started talking about pasta and next you know, bam Feli is hanging all over her, and talking about pasta, we made the most awesome mac and cheese except we sorted of burned it and that was sad, but then we made cookies and they were really good 'cause cookies are awesome you know, especially the chocolate chip gooey ones they're so yummy-so anyways I met this girl and she was really cute, she had this long beautiful hair, and she was really quiet but I started talking to her and she's actually sort of nice and Mattie she's so cute, I think I sort of have a crush on her."

Matthew had a lot of practice at sorting out his brother's drunken speech, so he was able to glean the important facts out of the verbal vomit. Like the fact that his brother had a crush. He smirked but decided to wait until tomorrow before he started teasing him. It would be much more fun when his brother was sober. He couldn't wait. Still, he thought as he looked at his brother's blushing face and lovestruck eyes, Alfred with a crush was really cute.

Alfred continued to go on about what he declared to be the love of his life, letting some small but important facts occasionally slip through that Matthew carefully set aside, in case the information could ever end up being useful.

"Oh and Mattie, Eyebrows called, he and Frenchie should be back tomorrow."

Matthew nodded at this. Their parental figures had been gone for a long time and it would be good to have them back. Actually now that he thought about it...

" Didn't Arthur ground you right before they left?"

"Yep!"

Matthew couldn't help but admire the man's stupidity.

"Did he think you would actually follow his orders after he left?"

"Naw. He thought you would watch over me and stop me from disobeying them."

"You didn't leave the house or play video games, are we clear?"

"Whatever you say Mattie. Whatever you say."

He eventually carried a sleepy Alfred upstairs and laid him under his Toy Story blankets and dinosaur sheets, tucking him in carefully and trying to ignore his bother's nudity. After he had carefully tucked him in he went to his room.

-This Way Comes-

He loaded up his computer, sent a short email to his Estonian contact asking him to kindly erase any file on Gilbert's computer related to the pictures taken. He received a response immediately, the other boy, accepting but choosing to corrupt the files rather than wipe them, it being less suspicious. Matthew shrugged and decided to let Eduard take care of it. The other was much more computer savvy than he was and knew exactly what he was doing.

He opened one of his favourite books _The Portrait of Dorian Gray_ and allowed himself to relax and concentrate on the world created by Oscar Wilde.

A little while later, his cellphone vibrated against his leg. He took it out and read the text message.

_Meet me at the last table by the window in the Starbucks at ten. Don't be late-Ukraine._

Matthew frowned at the message. Usually Kat preferred to meet him at the club, since she worked there and he was a frequent client. He checked the time, but it was only 9:00. He still had time before he had to leave. 

He decided to phone Tino and check in on his friend. After seeing how badly the Finnish boy was taking the news about Ivan's return, he had decided not to mention it to the others, most importantly Lukas and Emil.

He dialed the number, knowing it by heart, and waited for his friend to pick up.

"Hello, who is this? Name yourself!" Tino's voice was tense.

"Relax Tino, it's Matthew. I just wanted to make sure you're all right. How are you doing?"

"Not great as you can probably figure out. Sorry about the whole... but well, you know."

Matthew sighed. He understood Tino's reaction, he really did, but the paranoia was taking its toll on the boy, who wasn't sleeping right, had turned outright snappy and was exceedingly jumpy. Berwald was freaking out. Luckily for him, the Swede didn't know who had been on the other end of the line of that fateful phone call. Had Berwald known it was Matthew that had delivered the news affecting Tino so strongly, he would probably have been assassinated.

If he was being honest he was sort of annoyed at Tino's reaction, seeing as it was making Lukas suspicious. The Norwegian boy had been sending him these pointed looks all the time, seemingly trying to read his mind.

He knew Lukas was not an idiot and would figure it out soon. He probably already suspected, but was hoping he was wrong. Lukas knew Matthew too well and had always been able to see right through him.

He talked to the Finn for a while trying to make him forget about the whole situation before he had to hang up and leave, otherwise he would be late for his meeting.

He considered leaving normally, but was afraid of waking up his brother, so he chose to sneak out the window instead. If the real reason was because he was looking for the adrenaline high he always felt when he jumped out his window and landed on a branch knowing he could just as easily have missed it, well Matthew decided to bury that fact at the bottom of his mind.

-This Way Comes-

Matthew had arrived a bit early at the cafe. He had figured he was better off early than late. Now it was a little after ten and Kat was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, a bit surprised that she herself was late. As he gazed out the window, he saw a napkin stuck between the window frame and the table. He pulled it out to discover a note written on it.

_Canada,_

_I am sorry I did not wait to meet you, but it is too dangerous. I have been followed since I left the club weeks ago. I cannot meet you in person otherwise my shadow would notice you too, and would report it. The situation is dangerous. Russia has 'friends' in the police, who have erased and falsified the evidence against him, nullifying the warrant against him. The police have kept it to themselves, so few know that he is a free man. Watch your back Canada. You have weaknesses. There are enemies everywhere. Do not try to contact me. I have weaknesses too._

_Take care._

Matthew stared dumfounded at the letter in his hands. Fuck. Crisse. Esti de tabarnak. Merde.

Shit.

I have weaknesses too. Did that mean they were threatening her? Blackmailing her? Was she warning him that she could no longer be trusted?

He had just lost an ally, a friend against Ivan. Who was following her? It had to be someone new otherwise she would have mentioned it. What did she mean by him having weaknesses? Was she trying to warn him about a particular plot? Or was it just a general waring to be careful.

Fuck. He had more questions than ever and had just lost a potential source of answers. It got worse too. Apparently the police force had been infiltrated by Ivan's men. Meaning that he could no longer fight him in a legal way, or hope that Ivan would end up in prison. This meant that he could no longer just hope that the police force would take care of him. He would have to start taking a more secure position against him.

He brought the letter home with him and burned it in the upstairs bathroom. He could not allow anyone to ever read that message. No one.

Sleep didn't come that night. He tossed and turned, changing position, trying in vain to get comfortable. Unfortunately, seeing as the problem was mental, it didn't help. His heart was tight with worry, his thoughts buzzing around his brain. Panic was slowly choking him until he could no longer lay down. He sat up, but it still wasn't enough and ended up pacing at 3:46 am.

He continued to do so all night long until dawn came. He then chose to go downstairs and make breakfast. The walls of his room were closing in on him and if he stayed there, he would start screaming and would never stop. He decided to make pancakes to calm himself down. Eventually the repetitive motions and the smell stopped the incoming panic attack right in its tracks. Who need therapy when you could have pancakes instead?

-This Way Comes-

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. The shit is about to hit the fan ladies and gentlemen.

Crisse, tabarnak, esti and merde are all cursewords.

Crisse I think is from Christ as in Jesus himself.

Tabarnak is from tabernacle as in the church object.

Esti is a deformed version of Ostie, the bread thing you eat at communion.

Merde is shit. Also, one of the few french (Canadian) curse words not connected to the church.

Anyone interested in an incredibly good Quebec movie? The name is Incendies, it's about a mother who dies and leaves her children with the task of finding their father and brother that they never knew and deliver a letter to them.

Anyways, cheers~!


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